


or maybe it’s the thought of not being so alone

by QueenHarleyQuinn



Category: Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: (Linus POV), (Linus gets worked up and Rusty is bad at romantic relationships), (Rusty’s kind of a love able jerk?), (porn with minor plot tbh), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Apologies, Breaking Up & Making Up, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fighting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenHarleyQuinn/pseuds/QueenHarleyQuinn
Summary: “There are places on Rusty’s body - his pink lips, his jutting hip bones, his strong thighs - that Linus has tasted. Less than gracefully, no doubt, but still. Carefully. With awe and eagerness and, most embarrassing of all, something near worship.”(Linus and Rusty are messy but put everything back together in the end. And they fuck a lot too.)
Relationships: Linus Caldwell/Rusty Ryan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	or maybe it’s the thought of not being so alone

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re looking for two boys who are good at communicating you’ve come to the wrong place.
> 
> Also this was written in my notes app, so please forgive any errors.

There are places on Rusty’s body - his pink lips, his jutting hip bones, his strong thighs - that Linus has tasted. Less than gracefully, no doubt, but still. Carefully. With awe and eagerness and, most embarrassing of all, something near worship. His lips and tongue against Rusty’s tanned stomach, his teeth grazing abs.

That’s what comes to mind this lazy Summer morning - the resurfacing memories heating Linus’ face even as he presses his cheek into the cool side of the pillow. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to return to his dreamless sleep.

But all that will play in his mind is the scenes of Rusty’s beautiful, perfect skin under Linus’s trembling fingers. The curl of Rusty’s lips, absolutely grinning, before making some obscene noise just for the pleasure of watching Linus turn red. The tips of his ears pink and his cheeks rosy and his whole body warm.

Now, alone in his bed Linus is hard, rutting against the mattress minutely. Too tired and warm and pitiful to move much more than grinding himself against the sheets. It’s sad. If Linus was more awake, more dignified, he’d tell himself as much.

But he’s cursed with the phantom touch of Rusty Ryan. His clever hands on the backs of Linus’ thighs. His mouth on Linus’s collarbone. The ghost of his heaving breaths in Linus’ ear.

It’s pathetic to think back on it; their non-relationship. A month full of street food and fucking and Linus being so besotted. Linus’ big, stupid eyes shining at Rusty like he thought it could be forever. Him and Rusty and whatever part of the world they wanted to make theirs. 

Linus would have done anything, that’s the honest truth. Gone anywhere Rusty wanted; Los Angeles, New York, Barcelona, Marseille, Dubai. Or none of those places, he would have been blissful in the middle of fucking nowhere. So long as it kept Rusty’s hand in his, their lives twined.

Every single thing with Rusty felt special. More than that. It felt destined. Weighted. Linus clung to every bit of it.

Who could blame him? For a month, Rusty’s undivided attention was on him. It was like having a deity all to himself. Benevolent. Watchful.

That was the other thing; Rusty liked touching Linus, but he might have actually loved watching him. He flirted with him in public just to see Linus blush. Rusty stared at Linus as he got worked up over little things, like rolled up dress shirts or beyond snug jeans. Sometimes he’d sit at the end of the bed and watch Linus stroke himself. 

Linus being needy with one hand around his cock, the other squeezing his nipple. He’d be kneeling on the bed, thighs burning - leaning against the headboard when he’d edge himself and it all got too much. Blurry vision, hitching breath. Bottom lip swollen from being bitten and sucked repeatedly. Rusty watched Linus work on himself, slow and deliberate. Putting on a show.

And before Linus could get too desperate and teary-eyed Rusty would join him. Rusty moved over him, his cut lines of muscle so close to Linus’ lean body, soft and curved by comparison. His hand taking Linus’s place on his shaft, his teeth on Linus’ throat. “You can come, y’know?” His voice rumbling against Linus’ pulse point. He said it low but gentle, like coming was something that Linus was too nervous to ask about. Like that wasn’t the whole obvious point of sex. “If you want.”

Linus came - messy and beautiful and kissing Rusty. Kissing him through aftershocks of pleasure. And then, reverently, Linus would sink down to lick himself off Rusty’s body. Tasting himself mixed with Rusty’s sweat.

Rusty would move him, flip him over and fuck him. Linus’ face pressed into the mattress, hazy and spent, as Rusty thrusted fingers and tongue and cock into him. Overstimulation buzzing and frying each of his nerve endings. His own cock getting hard again.

Now - alone in his room, he ruts desperately against the mattress with out any of that perfect body weight to settle him down. No hand on the back of his neck, no lips pressing against his shoulder blades, no “you can come, y’know, if you want.”

Linus wants to - holy fuck, he really wants to. But he’s alone and hard and really fucking sad. He wants Rusty to make him come. Linus’s hand snakes down between his legs as he thinks about Rusty - tattoos and rings and swift fingers. 

Rusty’s mouth, Rusty’s laugh, Rusty’s innate ability to be exactly everything Linus has ever wanted.

Linus bites his own forearm, trying to suppress his lonely, strangled moan as he comes.

Panting, Linus rolls away from the mess he’s made of his sheets. He jumps halfway out of his skin when he sees Rusty standing in the doorway of his bedroom, palming himself through his jeans. 

“Fuck! Fucking Christ, Rusty!” Linus is the color of the cherry gum Rusty has in his mouth.

“Should have knocked,” Rusty nods, his voice implying guilt but his eyes blown wide and his smile wolffish, “actually, I should have called-“

Linus chucks his pillow at Rusty’s face but he bats it away. Linus picks up the first thing his fingers brush on the night stand - a hardback copy of Cloud Atlas - and throws that at Rusty’s gut. It hits.

The last time Linus saw Rusty was four months ago. They didn’t break up - how can you break up when you weren’t technically dating? No, instead Rusty was there one night, flipping through lousy television and fielding calls about his hotel. Actually Rusty was givingLinus a hand job, daring him to not make a sound as Rusty fielded phone calls, the tv ignored in the background.

The next morning Rusty, and his clothes and suitcase and smattering of hygiene products, was gone. And when Linus - with nervous fingers and an ache in his heart - tried calling Rusty, the number was disconnected.

Rusty’s arms are defensive over his body, blocking the next book - Into the Wild - as he says, “Can I-“

“No,” Linus says, thinking about unplugging the alarm clock and throwing that as well. He’s running out of ammunition.

“Just let me-“

“Nope,” Linus yanks the cord out of the socket and that’s when Rusty advances, coming further into the room with the previously thrown pillow as a shield.

“Linus,” Rusty says, his tone shifting. He’s always been the cool one, in every sense of the word. Airy and aloof and untouchable. Cold, sometimes. But Rusty is almost pleading when he says Linus’ name. He almost whispers it, lips flat and eyes revealing a worried glint.

Linus has the alarm clock wound back, like he’s ready to throw a fastball if Rusty so much as breathes in a way he doesn’t like.

“Listen,” Rusty says, “you know the Dominguez twins?”

Linus doesn’t. Well, not really. Not more than a rumor or two. “Yeah?” Linus says, still ready to throw the alarm clock at any moment.

“I had some debts to clear.”

Linus lowers his arm, begrudgingly because his arm was cramping not because he wanted to take pity on him. Rusty takes this as an opportunity to sit on the edge of the mattress. Linus is can feel Rusty’s body heat radiating, warming his legs that are tucked under the covers.

“You could’ve just-“

“I know,” Rusty nods.

Linus used to think Danny and Rusty just spoke the same language after years of working together. Like they had their own culture or way of life. And if he’s feeling particularly honest with himself, he admits he was jealous of that. Of them. Of their closeness and expertise and sureness. They were - are - confidence men, in the truest way possible.

But now Linus has had the ability - privilege - to study Rusty up close. He discovered that Rusty just finds a way to speak  everyone’s language. That he simply catches on quick and interrupts to save time. Now Linus is jealous that Rusty can know people so well and still, somehow, not seem encumbered by it at all. He can know every single person he’s ever met and just leave them, like they’re nothing.

“You’re not saying anything,” Rusty points out.

“You watched me jerk off,” Linus says, “you left without a word and then you came back to the saddest solo on earth.”

“Hey,” Rusty smiles, popping his gum, “wasn’t sad from where I was standing.” But the grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Linus pulls his legs away under the covers, fights to pull up the covers up entirely even though Rusty has them pinned under his weight. Linus feels the light peak in, as the morning shifts into warmer shades of yellow. It’s gentle on his still naked neck and shoulders.

“Tried to get your attention, by the way, but you were kind of busy,” Rusty says, toying with the cord of the alarm clock.

“I wasn’t exact expecting anyone to be here,” Linus looks at him with sharp eyes. Hurt eyes.

“Yeah,” Rusty says, his flashing a look up at Linus, “I shouldn’t have...left like that. I’m sorry. And I shouldn’t have done,” he gestures to the doorway, vaguely, “that either.”

Linus bites his lower lip, “Four months.”

Rusty takes a hand through his blond hair, “Big debt.”

There’s something not being discussed. Linus knows that, he’s no idiot even if he feels like an imposter all the time. Doesn’t take four months for someone with  millions of dollars - liquid and assets - to pay back a debt. And if it was big, like Benedict big, he would have gotten help from somebody. Right? Obviously not Linus - too green and eager and clingy. But maybe Danny? Maybe anyone else in the world.

“You’re doing it again,” Rusty shifts, lounges a little more into the mattress, “not saying anything.”

“I would have understood,” says Linus, “even if you didn’t want help I could have just listened. If you had told me.”

If you had told me . Linus watches Rusty process the words. Rusty licks his lips and nods, “I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Rusty’s pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip again. Then he chews his gum. These small actions are probably as close to anxious tics as he gets. “I was worried. About you,” he pauses, thinks over the next words, “Didn’t want to pull you in if I didn’t have to.”

“I’m,” Linus doesn’t even know what to say to that, “not delicate, Rusty.”

Rusty, thankfully, doesn’t raise his eyebrows or tease him for that. He leans forward and shakes he’s head, “Not like that. I know you’ can handle yourself,” there’s the tease, “I mean...the Dominguez twins get messy sometimes. And sometimes they prefer payment-in-kind.”

Not cash. Not money wired to offshore accounts. A favor. A big one. One that Rusty didn’t want him near.

Linus looks down at his rumpled, navy blue comforter. His hands pale and peachy toned against it. He flexes is fingers and tries, for the love of god, not to succumb to the tears welling up inside him. 

Rusty grabs his right hand, clasps it in both of his. Fuck, his skin is warm. Even if the summer heat is starting to swelter Linus could bask in Rusty’s  everything forever. 

He traces circles into the heel of Linus’ palm. Linus shivers. “I miss you,” Rusty says.

“I’m right here,” Linus can’t help but breathe the words out. His throat is tight and his eyes are watery and it’s taking every spare bit of composure not to crawl into Rusty’s lap right now.

“I know,” Rusty says, tilting his head down a little to kiss Linus’ wrist. “I should have said I’d come back. Should have asked if you would wait.”

“I would have.” 

Rusty reaches out with his other hand, cups Linus’ face, “I know.”

Linus sighs against the touch. He twines his fingers with Rusty’s and pulls him forward, barely so. Slightly, waiting for Rusty to follow through.

Rusty surges toward him, bringing their lips together. He kisses Linus like he’s forming an apology - sweet kisses on his mouth and cheeks and brow. The hand formerly cupping Linus faces moves to brush down his throat, to squeeze his shoulder. Then it cards back up through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Linus loses all sense of himself until he realizes he’s pulling Rusty by the belt loops, dragging him closer. Their mouths part so Rusty can move the sheets and the comforter out of the way. He stares at the freckles on Linus’ chest and the way his cock twitches against his stomach.

“This okay?” Rusty checks, stroking Linus’s side, his thumb sweeping over his hipbone. 

Linus sits up, and pulls at Rusty’s shirt - awful, bright pink and lime green. “Yes, Christ, yes!”

Rusty smirks a little and unbuttons his shirt as Linus works at his belt. They get him out of his shoes and pants swiftly, underwear along with it. Until Rusty is naked and lovely and on top of Linus.

Linus rakes his dull nails down Rusty’s chest. He wraps his legs around Rusty’s waist and gasps every time their cocks touch. Slick with precome. Linus still sensitive from this morning.

Rusty reaches into the top drawer of Linus’ nightstand. Pulls out a condom and lube as Linus wraps his hand around Rusty’s cock. Stroking lightly, watching as Rusty pours lube onto his hand and presses two fingers against Linus’ hole.

“Rusty!” Linus whines. He grips Rusty’s shoulders and squeezes his eyes right.

“Easy, baby, easy,” Rusty soothes, fingering him, “I’ve got you.”

Rusty kisses his throat as he opens Linus up. His teeth graze and nip but his tongue soothes. And Linus bears down, fucking himself on those two fingers.

When Rusty finds that spot Linus’ hips jerk up, searching for friction against Rusty’s cock and stomach and abs. “Fuck, Rusty, I want-“ a moan builds over him as Rusty brushes his prostate again, “god, I want-“

“You can have whatever you want, baby. Just tell me.”

“Your cock in me. Want you to fuck me, Rusty, please!” His words come out jumbled and frantic, “please, Rusty!”

Rusty pulls his fingers out and Linus lets out a pitiful sound. But it’s only for a moment as Rusty rolls a condom onto his cock and strokes lube onto himself.

“I’m going to fuck you, baby, don’t you worry,” Rusty’s promise is accentuated with a kiss. His tongue lapping against Linus’ as he pushes himself inside. He swallows up Linus’ moan.

Rusty grunts, “Fuck!” Against Linus’ mouth. Linus feels so gloriously filled, so complete with Rusty in him, root to tip. He hitches his legs up further on Rusty’s waist, digs his fingers into Rusty’s back.

Rusty fucks like he cons; perfect and beautiful and a little self-aware. Smug. He fucks into into Linus, knowing just how to make him gasp and moan. His thrusts are precise and dirty and it’s not  fair because Linus is coming much quicker than he thought he would.

His come is sticky against their bellies and his visions blues into something hazy and wonderful as Rusty’s thrusts become faster and, eventually, frantic. “Come in me, Rusty, want you to come in me, please,” Linus pants, shifting to meet Rusty’s pace.

Rusty comes with a shout and the final touch against Linus’s prostate sends an after shock of pleasure and  too much over him.

Rusty lays on him, still inside him, and kisses his jaw. Linus winds his arms around Rusty’s lower back. A few minutes pass as the air cools the sweat on their bodies. Then Rusty pulls out, disposes of the condom and drags Linus out of bed with him.

“Mmph,” Linus says weakly, when he means tosay stay in bed.

“Shower. C’mon,” Rusty smiles, lazy ands spent.

Their time in the shower is spent holding each other, mostly. Or Rusty holding Linus. Linus plastering himself to Rusty.

“Don’t leave like that again,” Linus mumbles against his skin as he leans against Rusty’s chest.

“I won’t.”

The way Rusty’s eyes shine at him helps Linus know that Rusty means it.


End file.
